


Napoléon of Crime

by Esperata



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Criminal Masterminds, London, M/M, Private Investigators, Sherlock Holmes AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Edward Nashton earns his living as a private detective solving the petty problems of the hoi polloi, all the while seeking to test his skills by aiding the police, albeit with little reward. That is until he comes up against a more worthy foe, known only as the Penguin.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 40
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [connerluthorkent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/connerluthorkent/gifts).



The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime. Yet Edward Nashton had opted to become the world’s first private consulting detective and felt the world was all the better for it. Better anyway than his other inclination to use his great mind for criminal purposes. Really Scotland Yard ought to be thanking him for his decision rather than treating him with barely restrained contempt as he undertook to make up for their incompetence.

It was a familiar tread upon the stair that alerted him first to the new pilgrimage of London’s finest, come no doubt cap in hand, false platitudes upon his lips, to beg for the great detective’s aid. Ed stubbornly remained seated, eyes diligently tracking over the daily newspaper for interesting snippets, until a knock at the door announced his housekeeper.

“Mister Nashton?”

She poked her head round the door cautiously and not without good cause. Many times she’d caught him doing something indubitably odd, such as smashing a water melon or arguing with his reflection.

“Hhmm?” He didn’t stop scanning the paper even as he acknowledged her arrival.

Judging it safe enough this time however she stepped inside, carefully closing the door in anticipation of some remark best not overheard. Mrs Lark appreciated Edward in a way few others did, and not just because of the generous rent he paid. Ever since he stepped in to assist the police following the murder of her late husband and studiously kept his findings from them. Ultimately they were both the better off for the unconventional introduction.

“There’s a gentleman from Scotland Yard to see you,” she informed him.

Finally lowering his newspaper he looked across at her. Unsurprisingly, her diligent gaze was sweeping the room and he knew she was itching to tidy. She’d tried it once but his reaction had left her in no doubt of the impropriety in which he held her actions. The place might look untidy to a layperson but in fact was carefully organised.

“Inspector Pennyworth. Chief inspector,” he corrected himself even as her wondering gaze settled on him.

“Now how can you possibly know that? Unless…” She quickly crossed the room to peer from the window.

“A reasonable assumption,” Ed allowed generously, even as she obviously recognised the flaw to her conclusion, “but it’s quite impossible to see the front doorway from this side.”

She turned back to him with an impressed smile and placed her hands on her hips.

“Well? Aren’t you going to enlighten me then?”

He let the suspense build a moment but they both knew he’d cave. If he had a weakness it was his need to perform for an audience and in that his housekeeper made an ideal candidate.

“Upon making the rank of chief inspector, Mister Pennyworth spent his first pay check to purchase a more sturdy pair of boots. As yet he has not accommodated his gait to the additional weight, lending his footsteps a distinctive heavy tread.”

She gave him a spontaneous quiet applause along with a proud smile and for an instant Edward found himself wondering what his life would have been like if she had been his mother instead of-

Luckily that thought was quickly shut down as she pursed her lips and huffed in a ruffled tone,

“He’d never have made that promotion without your help. The nerve of them, claiming your deductions as their own.”

Edward shrugged, letting go of both that complaint and his previous spiral of negative thoughts.

“It’s the price I must pay for access to puzzles worthy of my intellect.”

Mrs Lark huffed again but could hardly argue his point. The police allowed him to assist on their most difficult cases only if they could keep the credit. And she had seen the problems that arose when Edward’s mind was not suitably occupied. Her eyes instinctively flickered across to the small box that had a permanent home upon the mantelpiece.

“At least the private clients reimburse you,” she offered.

This time it was his turn to huff dismissively but likewise he couldn’t argue. The private clients rarely offered him a challenge but were, as she pointed out, necessary for him to earn enough to live. It was easy money and he’d be a fool to refuse it even as he dreamed of having wide enough acclaim to take his pick.

“Shall I show him in now?”

Drawing himself back together, Edward offered a nod. She promptly took her leave and seconds later a tall figure stepped into the room without so much as a doff of his hat to Mrs Lark. Edward found himself instinctively scowling at the snub to his landlady even as she accepted it with equanimity. Plenty of people had given her worse insults in the aftermath of her husband’s suspicious death after all.

“Mister Nashton.” Pennyworth waited for an acknowledgment in reply but upon receiving none gestured impatiently at an empty chair. “May I sit?”

For a second Edward almost thought of refusing but then reconsidered. It was discomforting to have the man looming over him and if he sat then Edward might be able to exert his own superiority by standing himself. With a nonchalant gesture therefore he waved him to the chair.

“Inspector,” Edward greeted him benignly. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“It’s Chief Inspector now.” Pennyworth straightened slightly in obvious pride as he spoke.

“Oh yes. Of course. How silly of me to forget. I read the article in the paper. How did they put it? For your miraculous and dedicated work on uncovering the serial blackmailer Charles Milverton. Many prominent people were very impressed were they not?”

His guest shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, well, it wasn’t _just_ for that case. I’ve worked hard to get this promotion.”

“I’m sure you have.” Edward let silence fall for a beat before asking, “So what brings you to my door today?”

The unambiguous insinuation clearly discomforted the policeman and for a brief instant Edward thought he might have pushed too hard. Then all the pride slipped out of the figure opposite him.

“Truth to tell, the superintendent rather has high expectations following that successful arrest. He’s set me to clear out another virus infecting our city. One that’s been plaguing the force for quite some time. No-one’s come close to bringing them to justice and I don’t know how we’ll manage without your assistance.”

Edward tilted his head as he contemplated the proposition. The prospect of another large scale case piqued his interest, particularly as he couldn’t bring to mind any hints of who the chief inspector might be referring to from the press. And the man sounded suitably desperate to appeal to Edward’s ego.

“I’m listening,” he conceded.

There was a clear look of relief as Pennyworth shifted forward to begin his explanation.

“For months now we’ve known there’s a force at work behind a number of crimes seemingly taking place at random in the city. There’s no reason to connect them, they don’t follow any pattern, but the perpetrators have mentioned being assisted by a person of influence.”

“A person of influence?” Edward couldn’t help but lean forward in intrigue.

“Yeah. They shut up quickly but we’ve pieced together a bit from what they’ve overall let slip. Some of them have been financed in their criminal activities. Others given advice or information on targets. We don’t know what the instigator gets in return. Possibly a cut? Maybe they’re playing some larger game in real estate.”

“An orchestrator of crime.”

He realised his tone was perhaps too reverential and swiftly reclined again, feigning a disinterested pose.

“So? Why haven’t you arrested them already?”

“Because we don’t have a name,” Pennyworth exclaimed in frustration. “Just a figure shrouded in shadows. And absolutely no evidence.”

“Surely you don’t need my help though. Just send one of your undercover agents.” He waved dismissively.

“We’ve tried! Whoever this person is they know all our agents on sight. At best they’re coming back empty handed. A few we guess have tried to tail those who might lead them to the Penguin and we haven’t heard from them since.”

“The Penguin?” Edward arched an eyebrow, untroubled by the dubious fate of Pennyworth’s men but curious at this appellation.

He initially only received a scowl in response until Pennyworth seemingly realised the point was not about to be dismissed. Relenting with a sigh therefore he elaborated.

“Most of the crooks we’ve caught haven’t offered us much to go on but they did give us that moniker. Seems this facilitator favours tuxedos so people have nicknamed him after the bird.”

“Curious.”

As Edward sunk his head down in contemplation, Pennyworth began reiterating the numerous crimes they’d managed to link with this person. They truly were impressive in scope, encompassing all areas of the city and several levels of criminality. Whoever this Machiavellian individual was they clearly had an intellectual grasp on the game they were playing. Never extending themselves too far as to be at risk and keeping just within the probabilities of coincidence to prevent casual detection from the general public.

“So?” Pennyworth eventually intruded upon his thoughts in irritation. “Will you help or not?”

Edward brought himself out of his thoughts and looked up with a smile.

“My dear Chief Inspector, I’d be delighted.”


	2. Chapter 2

Although he would not have admitted the fact to Pennyworth, Edward already had a persona he used when it was necessary to go undercover amongst the criminal fraternity. Unlike the police, who traditionally went for plain clothes and non-descript visages, he had swiftly realised it was far better to leave people with a distinct impression that would prevent them thinking to notice any _other_ details. That way they’d be sure to remember what he wanted them to and not anything actually useful.

To that end he made a point of wearing an unconventional green suit and carrying a decorative cane with a pronounced curve to the handle, rather reminiscent of a question mark. Naturally he didn’t neglect to wear a bowler as well – he was going undercover not devolving into a brute. More memorably perhaps was his changed manner of speaking. Bolder, with an air of the charlatan’s charm, and incorporating almost compulsive word play. And, when occasion demanded, a touch of flirtatiousness.

It had entertained him greatly when Inspector Pennyworth, as he had been then, had approached him with this description with the hope that Mister Nashton might help him find this mysterious riddler to aid with their enquiries. Hiding his smile, he’d promised to keep his eyes out, and subsequently adopted the name Riddler into his act. It gave him a degree more notoriety amongst the criminal classes to have been affixed a nickname by the police. Otherwise he went by the only slightly changed name of Edward Nigma.

He’d opted to keep his first name the same mostly for simplicity’s sake. It wasn’t an uncommon name after all and meant he needn’t worry about answering a wrong call if he got distracted. Put simply though, he hadn’t been able to resist the joke in choosing the new pseudonym. Most people didn’t get the humourous oronym but he didn’t particularly mind. He’d long since accepted not being understood by the majority of the world’s population. That was the price one paid for genius.

Having a pre-established reputation gave him an immediate head start over the police in that he could walk into the most fabled den of iniquity with absolutely no questions asked. The bar staff even welcomed him warmly since he was known to actually pay his tab regularly. He dawdled briefly to acknowledge a few familiar faces before heading across to his favoured barmaid. Favoured because she was clearly infatuated with him and therefore he had no trouble enticing her into revealing the secrets he was after.

“Mister Nigma.” She blushed prettily as he leant towards her with a devilish smile.

“Myrtle,” he purred. “Pretty as a flower in Summer.”

She giggled at the compliment and then propped her elbows on the counter to lean in as well.

“What can I do you for today?”

He heard the underlying hint in the question but ignored it. She frequently made these subtle approaches and he rarely gave them a moment’s consideration. He had no need to buy her with such physical shows of affection and half thought she even preferred him because he appeared ignorant of the sexual trade she engaged in.

“Gin with a dash of vermouth,” he replied, straightening himself up again.

Her look conveyed the usual mixture of affection and frustration at his seeming obliviousness but she nevertheless turned to fetch his drink.

“There is something else you might be able to help me with,” he continued when she finished mixing his request.

“Oh?”

“Yes. For a while now I’ve been feeling… stymied.”

“Stymied?” She frowned at the unfamiliar word.

“Cooped up. Restrained,” he translated. “All my schemes to date have been… fine,” he grimaced slightly. “But I know I can do more. I want to spread my wings. Achieve bigger and better notoriety.”

“Spread your wings huh?”

He was encouraged by her knowing look and leant back in with another grin.

“Exactly. And I’ve heard tell there’s a person who could help with that.”

“The Penguin,” she confirmed immediately. “Yeah, he could help. _If_ he chose to.”

“And how can I find him? How can I persuade him to help?”

“As to persuading him,” she shook her head. “You don’t. He’ll help if it benefits him. But I _can_ help you find him.”

“I knew I could count on you.” He propped himself upright again with an audible thump of his hands on the counter. “So where do I need go?”

His enthusiasm made her laugh again.

“I can tell you the address but its not as simple as knocking on his door. You have to go prepared.”

“Right.” He grin fell into a puzzled frown. “Prepared how?”

“You’ll need to have a gift for him. A very special type of gift. A new pet for his aviary.”

The suggestion left him suddenly flummoxed and Myrtle laughed again at his expression.

“I need to take him a bird?”

She didn’t reply verbally but offered a shrug. He took a few more seconds to process the idea and as he appeared abashed she took up the conversation.

“It’s apparently his way of assessing new applicants for his patronage. If he accepts it then you’re free to come and go from his club as a member.”

“His club?”

“He runs a very exclusive club in town. The Iceberg Lounge.” She leant closer to impart the next bit. “They say he even lets some women join.”

Edward couldn’t keep his eyebrow from rising in surprise at that.

“How very… avant-garde.”

Again she only offered a shrug in response, possibly because she had no idea what the phrase actually meant. Edward drummed his fingers distractedly while he considered the new information. It was no wonder the police hadn’t made any headway. Even if they had managed to trail a suspect to the Penguin’s location they’d never have guessed at this particular price of entry. And presumably only people already well respected in the criminal community would be informed.

A club for the criminal elite. The very idea was thrilling. Edward suspected those accepted would not include any common thugs. No. Only those with the capability for planning and preparing their crimes properly. Men – and women supposedly – of reason and intelligence.

He looked up intent on asking Myrtle for the address only to realise he must have temporarily zoned out and she was now serving another customer. She caught him looking though and he saw her partially suppressed smile as she finished serving before promptly heading back over.

“So?” she enquired genially. “Still want to spread your wings?”

“Just point me in the right direction.”

Instead of telling him, Myrtle grabbed a pad from by their till and scribbled out the address for him. He glanced at it briefly as she handed it over, instantly memorising the details, before swiftly pocketing it.

“You won’t forget me will you?” she asked bashfully. “When you’ve made your name?”

“As if I could forget you.”

He offered her a final charming smile as he turned to weave his way out of the bar. It wasn’t a lie but he was aware that it was deliberately misleading. He had an eidetic memory and never forgot a face so her’s would be no different. However he’d already put her from his mind the second he stepped outdoors.

His only thought now was how to go about sourcing a bird suitable to present to the city’s kingpin of crime.


	3. Chapter 3

Edward would concede that the Metropolitan police had in fact been helpful in solving his bird dilemma. It was a little known fact that there was a storage facility for animals confiscated for one reason or another, usually because they were being imported illegally or else seized during an arrest, and the police were more than happy to sell you those allowed to remain in the country. The others presumably had a less enviable fate.

When he visited the avian section of the lockup he found there were a surprising number of birds for him to choose from, not just in individuals but in species too, but when he’d seen this particular specimen he’d known it was perfect for his purposes. The only problem he had then was the rather awkward business of transporting it.

Even being a certifiable genius didn’t surmount the problem of how to settle a highly excitable bird being taken from a stale room out into the fresh air and he received numerous startled looks as he manhandled the large cage into a hansom. It finally seemed to calm down once he had it safe in his apartment, provided with fresh water and some fruit slices, but he worried over how to transport it to the Penguin’s residence without drawing unwanted attention.

It was Mrs Lark who proposed the simple solution of putting the whole cage in a box both to conceal the distinctive shape and also to prevent the bird being alarmed by street lights or other people. The idea worked surprisingly well, allowing Edward to hire a hansom and set the bird alongside him without raising any questions at all. He opted to be delivered on a separate street from his destination and utilised a short connecting alleyway to approach undetected.

The doorway when he found it was actually down a set of stairs from the street, providing ample cover for visitors awaiting a reply to their knock. Edward had been interested to find the area was actually an upper class residential district, not at all the down at heel surroundings he’d come to expect from the city’s criminal fraternity. A further reminder that this was no ordinary crook he was meeting.

When the small hatch opened, Edward suffered a brief moment of anxiety over what to say but he was immediately reassured by being recognised.

“Mister Nigma. Wondered if we’d be seeing you here.”

“Gabriel, isn’t it?” The instinctive smile in response showed his recollection was appreciated. “Yes. I’m here to see Mister Penguin.”

“You need-” Gabriel began to say before Edward hefted his package into view. He broke off with a chuckle and Edward heard the door locks being opened.

“Come on in.”

The door opened into a little cloak room and he had to wait while Gabriel locked the door before following him into the house proper. Although ‘house’ seemed the wrong word to convey the ambiance of the room he was led into. It was much more akin to a public ballroom, although lacking the necessary floor space for dancing and decorated with lavish attention to detail. There were tables set out for cards, an area where waiters could serve drinks and even water features. True to Myrtle’s whisper there were also women in attendance apparently on an equal footing to the men.

He took everything in with as much precision as he could while they manoeuvred their way through and he was led up a set of stairs into what presumably was the private residence of the owner. At any rate the décor resembled that of a typical home with a reception area outside several closed doors and another staircase leading upwards.

There was no question but that he should wait while Gabriel cautiously entered a room to inform their host he had a new visitor. As he was left unattended he swept his gaze about for anything that would give him some further hints on the individual he was about to meet but, unlike downstairs, this space was disappointingly utilitarian. It was only seconds before Gabriel returned and gestured him inside though.

While Edward would not admit to forming preconceptions, if he had been pressed then he would have expected the man to be taller, definitely. People generally showed more respect to individuals with a height advantage. Also, he’d have anticipated someone slimmer, again because people tended to equate extra weight with decreased mental ability. The handsome face was not unexpected. Nor was the sophisticated voice when he spoke.

“Mister Nigma.” He cast his own glance appraisingly over him. “An interesting name. Edward Nigma. E. Nigma.”

The arched eyebrow posed its own non-verbal challenge and Edward briefly considered his best response. He had not expected to be tested so soon and realised it was best not to underestimate his opponent. A version of the truth was therefore his best course.

“I enjoyed the word play,” he admitted with a smile. “And can you blame me using a nom de plume in our business? I’d hardly want to have anyone making the link between me and my parents after all, Mister Penguin.”

The open reply clearly pleased the man who chuckled in response.

“Not Mister Penguin,” he countered with a more relaxed air. “Mister Cobblepot. Oswald Cobblepot.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I’ll refrain judgement for now.” He tilted his head and focused on the box beside Edward. “Although I have heard interesting things. I admit I am curious about what to expect from you.”

Edward took the hint and crouched to open the box, taking advantage of the moment to quickly scan the rest of the room. If this was truly where the Penguin conducted his business from then this must be where the evidence of his involvement was kept. The desk was the most likely target but it wasn’t inconceivable there was a safe built in somewhere. If there was though he couldn’t immediately spot it.

He didn’t dally over the question however and promptly straightened with cage held up. Mister Cobblepot couldn’t restrain his gasp and Edward felt a smug pride in his choice. Without further ado he deposited the gift upon the desk, also taking a second to glance it over but seeing nothing untoward, and then stepped back while the recipient moved forward to examine it.

“An umbrella cockatoo,” Penguin breathed reverentially.

"He's trained," Edward offered as Cobblepot unhesitatingly opened the cage door and reached in a hand for the pure white bird to step onto.

"She," he was corrected gently.

"Excuse me?"

"It’s a female. Just look at those brown eyes. If she's trained she can't be a juvenile. Hence, female."

Edward couldn’t help but frown suspiciously.

"How do you already know so much about them? Do you already have one?"

"No." The man kept his gaze fixed as he stroked her feathers. "But when I'm interested in something I like to know all about it." He switched his piercing gaze back to Edward. "And right now I'm interested in you. So? What grand scheme do you want my backing for?"

This Edward was prepared for. He’d always anticipated getting the proof of the Penguin’s criminal involvement would take some time and so had a whole story ready for his consideration. It had been quite invigorating to turn his genius onto concocting a scheme worthy of his alter ego, balancing the scale necessary to explain why he required backing yet keeping the impact minimal in case he was actually called to put it into practice.

Smiling in genuine excitement therefore he began gesturing with his hands as he outlined his idea.

“To start with I intend to send the police a message informing them there’s dynamite in the museum which will be detonated if they don’t solve the puzzle mechanism.”

“You’re going to tell them this plan?” The Penguin reclined slightly to rest against the desk, the bird happily climbing its way to his shoulder.

“That’s the most important part! I need them to go in order to see there is dynamite and to solve the riddle.”

“But… if they do that… forgive me, but I don’t see the benefit.”

“Oh that’s just the opening act! A proof of my sincerity. You see I will then present them with a new riddle leading them to _another_ site where there is also dynamite.”

“With another trap to solve?”

“Yes! And consequently a new riddle, etcetera etcetera.”

“So…” He folded his arms slowly, careful not to dislodge the bird from beside his head. “Where does the payoff come in?”

“That,” Edward raised a finger dramatically, “comes in because while the police are following my trail of breadcrumbs they are no longer at the original site.”

“The museum.” Penguin’s eyes lit up. “Where a number of valuables will be unguarded since the crime has _already_ taken place. Oh very clever!”

Edward couldn’t help but preen at the praise. His host meanwhile was thinking over the concept.

“So you’d need a supply of dynamite-”

“Not much,” he countered. “It’s only really necessary at the museum where they might be looking harder. Once I’ve proved I’m serious I doubt they’ll check again.”

“What other help will you need?”

“A few men to help get everything in place but mostly I’ll need assistance targeting the artefacts in the museum. I can hardly carry them all out myself and I wouldn’t have the connections to fence them.”

He received a thoughtful nod.

“I’d want 18% for fencing them for you. Plus first dibs on any objects I take a shine to.”

“Reasonable. Do we have a deal then?”

He extended his hand and was excited when Mister Cobblepot showed no hesitation in shaking it.

“I’ll start investigating our options. It’s a pleasure to do business with you Mister Nigma.”

“Please, call me Riddler.”

The rejoinder was a risk but felt necessary if he were to elevate himself to a position of greater familiarity. Thankfully it was met with an amused smile.

“Very well then, Riddler. Please feel free to make use of the Lounge. You’re welcome to drop in anytime.”

He couldn’t help his smirk even as Gabriel stepped forward to escort him back downstairs. A quick glance over his shoulder proved he’d obviously caught the other man’s interest too as his keen eyes watched him like a hawk as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

It was hardly a hardship to frequent Penguin’s club, being so utterly beyond the common criminal haunts he’d visited before. The clientele was entirely composed of those criminals of a superior calibre and Edward found himself for once mentally stimulated by his companions. However that didn’t mean he forgot his primary purpose and unfortunately he was at an impasse there.

Mister Cobblepot had taken his request on board and was now cautiously working to bring the necessary aspects into line. Yet he’d implicitly told Edward he needed no further input from him until everything else was ready. And with no interaction, Edward had little chance of regaining access to the man’s office. The staircase was always guarded and the room itself was inaccessible from any other angle.

So he watched the man surreptitiously when he did take the time to mingle with his guests and formulated a new plan. Mostly his conversation was brief and his visits perfunctory. Edward did notice a couple of the women attempt to flirt with him on occasion but Penguin either didn’t notice or, the more likely conclusion, didn’t care for it. He came to that assumption following his observation of a couple of men also flirting with him and receiving a much more friendly reception.

Following that revelation, his course seemed obvious and he made sure to position himself close to where Penguin’s path would inevitably guide him back towards his office staircase. After that it was simply a case of biding his time until the man was in the perfect position for his verbal trap.

“Though blind I am, the blind I lead, whichever way they be inclined; I bear the man who first bears me by which name you soon will see.”

He pitched his tone perfectly to catch his notice, just interrogative enough to give Penguin pause yet not demanding of attention. Edward tilted his head slightly when the man stopped, acknowledging his presence still without too much expectation of a response. It was obviously the correct attitude to take in order to lure him in as Mister Cobblepot positioned himself more comfortably for a conversation.

“Is that a riddle?”

“Yes. Do you like riddles?”

He didn’t receive an answer beyond a tolerant smile but he could see the intellect at work as he sought the solution. However his patience clearly wasn’t a match for such puzzles and seconds later he shook his head slightly in defeat.

“A walking stick.” Ed gestured with his own cane to the other man’s stick, intricately carved in the image of a bird’s head at the handle. “And may I say, you have a handsome cane.”

The smile he received this time was filled with pride.

“It was my father’s,” he explained. “He was something of an ornithologist.”

Edward hummed softly as he stored that piece of information and then made his next gamble. Resting his elbow on the table he propped his chin on his fist and smiled up at him.

“A handsome cane for a handsome man.”

The comment confused Oswald momentarily and he blinked in surprise. Then a light laugh broke out of him and he smiled genuinely.

“You’re incorrigible I see. I will have to keep my eye on you.”

“Please do.” Edward leant back, content with his progress. “Please do.”

Oswald laughed again even as he turned to continue on his way. Yet Edward saw him glance back briefly before disappearing upstairs.

The next day saw Edward in the same seat awaiting Oswald and this time he was certain the man slowed his path deliberately as he came to pass.

“Two brothers we are; great burdens we bear, by which we are heavily pressed; the truth is to say, we are full all the day, and empty when we go to rest.”

He kept his smile in check as he saw the clearly puzzled frown crease Penguin’s brow. Eventually the man huffed and shook his head once again.

“Shoes,” Edward told him. “Would you care to take the weight off your, admittedly very stylish shoes, and sit with me a moment?”

To his private delight, Oswald immediately capitulated, pulling out the chair opposite him and settling down.

“Well?” he challenged once sat. “I don’t have long so if there was something you wanted to say…”

“I merely wished to get to know you better.” He looked across to see this statement being met with a dubious expression and scavenged about for something better. “You mentioned your father yesterday. I don’t know any other Cobblepots in town. Are you from the country?”

For some reason this made his companion laugh and he almost feared he had crucially slipped up.

“Not the country, no, but another country, yes.” Oswald gazed at him thoughtfully a second. “I was brought up in Austrio-Hungary. My father was Austrian. I moved to London when he died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Edward responded instinctively albeit still thinking of other things. “What about your mother? Is she still with us?”

The question was obviously unappreciated as Oswald immediately turned his face away.

“She is,” he answered shortly. “But I would prefer not to discuss her in such a setting. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am very busy this evening.”

Edward let him go without further comment, mentally noting that the man was sensitive over his mother. Protecting her from association with his current business perhaps? Or maybe sore over a dispute of lifestyles. It was unlikely to be relevant to his aim however so Edward resolved to leave that track in their next conversation. Assuming Oswald would still want to talk.

Thankfully, the next night he again hesitated beside the table and Edward was again able to challenge him. Their talk flowed easily this time, and Edward found himself for once conversing on an equal level about such cultural delights as the new Michelangelo exhibit or the nuances of the latest performance of Wagner. He could see the surprised enjoyment in Oswald’s eyes too as they realised they needn’t withhold their analyses or temper their discussion with simpler language.

As Oswald eventually, reluctantly, rose to leave for his office there was a marked pause. Edward considered reaching for his hand to risk a chivalrous kiss to the back and was sure Oswald was having similar thoughts. Yet he made himself draw back and visibly acquiesce to the man’s departure.

Although he felt an anxiety to revisit the Penguin’s office, he had to remind himself of the reason for that visit. He would need time there to locate the hiding place of his papers and a chance to distract Oswald long enough to reach it. If the man was busy working through whatever needed to be done then he would not have such an opportunity.

He hoped too that by withholding the expected tête à tête then Oswald might be more distracted. Letting the tension build would provoke reckless carelessness. The only downside to this otherwise excellent plan was the fact that he also felt an unexpected degree of frustration at the delay. It had not happened to him on a case before. He had always been perfectly at ease taking whatever time necessary to reach a successful conclusion.

Rather than sit restlessly in the club therefore he stepped out to walk home. The night air doing wonders to cool the flush that had risen to his cheeks. However little was helping to calm his incessant thoughts as they pieced together everything they could from the hints Oswald had given him.

His father had been of a respectable family but there had been troubled times which led to Oswald’s arrival in London. The parallel to his own upbringing struck a chord within him. Not in exact details but in outcome. Both were now alone in this city striving to make their mark. Each of them had excelled in studies, to the point where they were no longer served by the system, but actually restrained, leading to a fractious relationship with authority.

Which brought Edward’s thoughts to their relationships with Scotland Yard. Both respected in an oblique way yet ultimately considered beneath contempt. Unworthy of recognition and dismissed for being outside the normal bounds of society’s acceptance. Both too ostracised in society for being oddities. Never welcomed on an equal footing but tolerated for politeness sake.

It seemed incredible to him that acting undercover he’d found someone to converse with without needing to censor himself. He’d had people react to his pretend flirting before but this was different. This felt genuine. For a very brief moment he allowed himself to contemplate that possibility. A real relationship with Oswald. Combining their expertise to work together and achieving more than either could alone. Having someone happy to see him and tender in his company.

The bubble burst when he returned to his apartment to find Chief Inspector Pennyworth waiting impatiently for him.

“Mister Nashton. The superintendent is getting impatient for results and there’s only so long I can hedge things. Surely you have something I can take back?”

Edward dallied briefly as Mrs Lark took his coat and scarf. He deposited the bowler on his table and caught the grimace of distaste from his guest as he took in his apparel. The reaction frustrated him not least because it was in aid of the police in the first place.

“I have a name and an address,” he admitted.

“And you didn’t think to mention that before? I can have a squad round there-”

“No!” Edward interrupted instinctively before drawing himself together. “The instant they see any police the evidence of his connection to the crimes will be destroyed and all you’ll have is a lawsuit for unwarranted breaking and entering.”

“So what’s your genius proposal then?”

“I can get the evidence for you. Tomorrow,” he threw out unthinkingly.

“You have one night Nashton,” Pennyworth warned him. “Then I’ll want the address and we’ll deal with this through official channels.”

He stood up and headed for the door but Edward heard him muttering as he went.

“Don’t know why I ever involved an amateur in this anyway.”

Edward grit his teeth and slammed the door after him. Then, in a fit of uncontainable pique, he seized up his revolver and fired six rounds into the opposite wall.


	5. Chapter 5

Visiting the club the next evening brought about mixed feelings for Edward. On the one hand he was excited about seeing Oswald again. A nervous anticipation that had been building since his sleepless night. Yet on the other hand he was aware this would likely be their last meeting. He would get what he needed, pass the information onto Chief Inspector Pennyworth and then… go back to his humdrum existence in the shadow of the real police.

It was almost impossible to believe it had scarcely been a week since he’d met Oswald. His life seemed to have changed so much in that short time. Or perhaps not his life but his thoughts. His dreams. His hopes and ambitions. How had he ever been satisfied accepting the scraps from Scotland Yard’s table when there was a world such as this to explore?

Stepping inside, with a now familiar welcome, he allowed his coat and scarf to be taken before heading instinctively for what he considered to be ‘his’ spot. He’d barely reached the chair, and leant to pull it out, when a hand gripping his arm made him swing instinctively round ready to defend himself, only to see Oswald looking intensely at him. The man said nothing but smiled when he registered the surprise on Edward’s face. For a second he scanned whatever look Edward was wearing, seemingly looking for something particular, and Edward realised he was unusually content to be thus examined. Whatever he wanted he must have found because in the next instant Edward found himself being dragged away towards the staircase.

It was a purely impulsive reaction to slip his free hand into his pocket and drop his pre-prepared test tube into the dustbin as they passed. He was hardly even aware of doing it, although it had been in his mind all day as he planned this evening. Now however it seemed vastly more important to focus on Oswald.

Who had released Edward now they’d reached his office in order to move behind him to shut the door. The rush of adrenaline from the impromptu action left Edward feeling anxious as he suddenly realised Penguin may actually have uncovered his work for the police. Being brought away from inquisitive eyes would make sense if he was about to be done away with. He began to speak therefore even as he turned to face him.

“Penguin I-”

His breath caught as instead of seeing Penguin over by the door still he was in fact practically leaning against him. He couldn’t help the widening of his eyes nor the instinctive gaping of his mouth.

“Oswald,” he was corrected softly before hands gripped themselves about his face and pulled him down into a searing kiss.

For a split thought, Edward was conflicted over what to do. Then Oswald made a little noise against his lips and he forgot thinking entirely. He reacted to every motion and sound with equal intensity, desperate to just _have_ this. Now and in his memories forever.

How long they would have stayed wrapped up in their clinch, or even how long they _had_ been locked together, Edward didn’t know but he was kicked back to reality by a strident cry from somewhere downstairs.

“Fire!”

The warning shout broke Oswald away from his mouth with a gasp and the man glanced in alarm back towards the door before staggering across to the portrait up beside his desk. His hand had only just reached for the lower right corner when a new voice interrupted from outside the room.

“It’s out!” The door swung open to reveal Gabriel, looking slightly out of breath himself. “Sorry. False alarm. Must have been a cigarette dropped in a bin.”

On the opposite side of the room Oswald was flushed with what could conceivably have been anger, especially considering the verbal rebuke he immediately offered his underling.

“Tell people to be more careful! Can you imagine how it would have looked if we’d all had to rush into the street for a cigarette burn? This is supposed to be a secret club!”

“Yes sir.” Gabriel’s eyes flickered to Edward and he was suddenly aware of how flushed he himself must also look. Thankfully Gabriel was loyal enough to say nothing. He backed out of the room and pulled the door closed after him. Edward heard Oswald cough slightly and turned to him.

There was an awkwardness about him now and he seemingly wouldn’t meet Edward’s eyes. He was however fastidiously straightening his jacket and waistcoat which Edward suddenly saw he had pulled quite visibly out of shape. With a brisk cough himself he set to adjusting his own clothes which were likewise dishevelled by Oswald’s grasping hands. When suitably presentable again he once more looked up. This time Oswald was patiently watching him.

Edward honestly didn’t know what to say in this situation though so he simply waited for the other man to take the initiative. It took him a few tries but eventually Oswald managed to speak again.

“Do you believe in fate?”

The question was so far from anything he had expected to hear that he could not fathom an answer. Thankfully it appeared one wasn’t needed as Oswald continued.

“Please believe me, I don’t usually make such a… forceful advance… to someone I only just met a few days ago. But I find myself running out of time and you…” he stepped forward, eyes looking almost mystified as they traced over Edward’s features. “I feel a kinship I cannot explain.”

There was no logic Edward could call on to help him deal with that emotional appeal so he instead focused on the practicality mentioned in the sentence.

“What do you mean you’re running out of time? Are the police-”

A laugh interrupted him and he flinched instinctively at the sound.

“Not the police, no. They don’t have anything on me. And never will,” he added confidently before letting his shoulders drop again. Edward waited while the man moved around and thoughtfully stared at his desk, obviously debating what to say next.

“It’s why I mentioned fate,” he picked up his earlier thread. “My plans have been in motion for so long now, and have proceeded perfectly to plan so far,” -his gaze snapped up to Edward- “until you appeared. And now I’m questioning myself in a way I haven’t before.”

“Why? How am I interfering in your plans?”

Edward was aware himself of the irony in asking such a question but truly he didn’t think he’d actually done anything yet to disrupt Oswald’s schemes.

“Because I’m facing a choice which should have been easy. Was easy a week ago. Should I stick to my plan and leave? Or risk everything I’ve worked towards for a chance at… something I can’t even put a name to!” he concluded in frustration.

Despite the clear irritation that should have worried Edward, all he felt was anxiety at the prior implication.

“You’re leaving?”

Even he heard the unspoken plea in his tone and he saw it affect Oswald too. His posture eased and he smiled sadly.

“All this,” he gestured around to indicate his empire, “was a means to an ends. A reliable way to accrue funds without getting arrested. All so I could afford to fund a new life in America. For me and my mother.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes. I had to leave her in the old country when I came here to seek my fortune but I vowed to get her out. My father’s family objected to their marriage, and by extension _me_ , because she was Hungarian. I promised to send for her as soon as I had enough to start our new life and I did. A week ago.”

“So…”

“She’s on a boat here now. I’m supposed to meet her at the docks tomorrow. And then we’ll be sailing for America. Never to return.”

“Never to return?” he echoed. “So, I’ll never see you again?”

He could see Oswald swallow and realised the man was incapable of voicing an answer. Edward could appreciate that since his own heart seemed to be lodged in his throat too. It was ridiculous. He barely knew this man. He shouldn’t be experiencing this sort of pain at a proposed separation.

“Come with me!”

The request was barked more than asked, and he half thought it would be immediately retracted as inappropriate, yet when he glanced up he saw Oswald’s eyes were positively shining.

“I have enough to support three as easily as two. You could surely prosper in the New World with your skills and intelligence.”

“Oswald I… can’t. I mean… people know me here. I can’t just _leave_.”

“Oh. Oh, of course. You have friends and family. I should have…” He shook his head in self admonition. “It was foolish of me. I’m over reacting. You’ll be perfectly happy with your life here of course.”

“No,” Edward couldn’t help but interrupt. “No, really my life here isn’t _that_ great. I don’t have family – or friends – and I already know I’ll miss you terribly.”

“Then…”

Oswald’s eyes spoke for him, imploring Edward to choose his reckless proposition. The temptation was strong and seemingly only growing stronger as Edward bit his lip trying to think through probabilities.

“I need to think,” he eventually concluded. “I _want_ to leave with you. It’s crazy and I shouldn’t but lord help me I do. Yet I need to know I’m thinking clearly and I can’t do that here with you. Especially not with you looking so…” He gestured vaguely.

“Absolutely.” Oswald held his hands palm up in deference to his decision before reaching for a leaflet on his desk. “Go home. Think it over. If you decide to join me then this is where you’ll need to meet me.”

He handed over a page with details of the shipping port and times upon it. “I hope to see you tomorrow Edward.”

With his eyes still on the paper, Edward nodded. It was an effort of will to look up at Oswald again. He knew this might be the last time he saw him and, if he did what he was supposed to, then he knew Oswald might never make the ship himself, instead winding up in a prison cell. A part of him wanted to kiss him farewell but that seemed too final. Instead he offered a difficult smile and left.

His thoughts whirled as he walked the journey home. The rational part of him was insisting he need to put this whole experience behind him. Hand the man over to Pennyworth and accept whatever insufficient gratitude was offered his way. The tingling in his lips argued against that however and he couldn’t restrain his imagination from running wild.

Which is why he almost dismissed the strange sight that met him when he eventually reached his front door. Out of the corner of his eye, perched upon a lamppost nearby, was an owl. He finished turning the key and then looked up at it fully, almost convinced he’d forgotten going inside and swallowing one of his pills.

As the breeze continued to chill him however and the bird did nothing else he chuckled to himself. Either it was a sign or it was a warning and it was up to him how to view it. As a portent that Oswald was his destiny or an admonition that he was not to be trusted and was even now spying on him.

Finally stepping inside his home he paused briefly to look up at it again. Then, tilting his head, he blew it a kiss and retired for the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Turning the pages with practised ease, Edward found the article he was interested in almost immediately. It wasn’t much and was most probably passed over by everyone else reading that day’s paper but to him it was of the greatest significance.

DIED

Mr Edward Nashton, late of Baker Street, was found by his land lady, Mrs Lark, stabbed to death outside their residence yesterday morning.  
Chief Inspector Pennyworth, who was called to the scene, thought the killing likely part of a larger plot.  
Quoted as saying “Mister Nashton had a habit of putting his nose where it didn’t belong. Seems someone caught him at it.”  
An apt statement as rumour has it the killer disfigured the victim’s face upon death and the body had to be identified by its attire.  
No word on next of kin.

“Well?” The quiet voice interrupted Edward’s musings and he turned to face his interlocutor. “How does it feel to be a free man Mister Nigma?” 

He couldn’t resist turning his gaze back to the view before answering, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair as he looked out over the wide expanse of ocean.

“It feels… exhilarating.”

Oswald moved to join him leaning on the guard rail, the wind catching his own hair, and the chill bringing a flush to his cheeks. They settled side by side, fingers just touching as they dangled close together.

Behind them lay England, where the ship was docked for the last stop before setting out across the broad Atlantic. Ahead lay the future, broadly unknown but enticing with its range of possibilities. And in between, an exciting time where the two of them could just exist with each other.

“Only a week,” Edward murmured.

“The journey ahead?”

“Yes,” Edward agreed, tilting his head to observe Oswald with a smile, “but I was actually thinking of how long we’ve known each other.”

“It may be little in terms of time but I swear I have never felt a depth and quality of connection to equal it, even over the most generous time frames.”

The fervent declaration deepened Edward’s smile. One thing he’d already learned was that Oswald trusted in his feelings to a much greater degree than he himself ever did. And yet, here he was, following his heart right across the sea.

“I cannot argue with that.” He met the man’s eyes and hoped his own passion for him showed. Even if they were in a more private setting he suspected he’d struggle to convey everything he currently felt.

“Ah! There you are!”

The heavily accented voice drew their attention back and they each pivoted to greet the woman approaching them. Upon her wrist, cradled against her chest was the snowy white cockatoo Edward had first gifted Oswald. She was petting it fondly even while she leant in to kiss her son’s cheek. Oswald welcomed the gesture but Edward thanked his height that prevented such an emotional display. He still had no clue how to respond to the open affection Oswald’s mother had immediately been willing to bestow upon him. Mrs Kapelput had accepted Edward into their unit with open arms, seemingly thrilled her son had made such a dear friend to travel with them.

“You must not stand out too long,” she fussed. “You’ll catch chill.”

“We’re fine mother. Fresh air is important for the constitution.”

She fidgeted with the light scarf Oswald had wrapped around his neck, pulling it up over his nape with her free hand.

“That cabin is too stuffy for you,” she fretted. “You poor boys having to share. I should have stayed in England. Let you each have-”

“Mother,” Oswald interrupted firmly, carefully gripping her hands to focus her attention and huffing an amused laugh as the bird promptly switched over to him. “You couldn’t stay in London on your own and I’d already paid for us both to travel. This way made most sense. And besides,” he added with a glance to Edward, “we’re happy to share.”

Her mood shifted again into a happy smile.

“My boy is so lucky to have made such a good friend.”

She turned, letting her son wrap an arm about her shoulders as they both looked up with similar expressions of infatuation to Edward, who blushed under the open praise. He hoped the wind would be blamed for his own red cheeks.

“Honestly Mrs Kapelput, I feel I’m the lucky one. To have made not only a close friend but to have gained the welcome of such a kind hearted woman.”

“Such a charmer!” She turned faux bashful and angled her head to pretend whisper in her son’s ear. “You should hang onto this one.”

With a knowing smile at them both she then sauntered away back indoors, only calling back over her shoulder, “Do not keep Rozsika out too long.”

Edward couldn’t help but stare at Oswald in alarm.

“Does she… _know_? About…” He gestured vaguely between them.

Oswald cajoled the bird to his shoulder before resettling against the barrier and waited for Edward to join him before answering.

“I think mother has always known about me. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together the obvious conclusion from you joining me.”

“But what about everyone else?”

The carefree shrug he was offered did little to reassure Edward and Oswald clearly noticed.

“Edward, do you trust me?”

For a moment Edward felt uncertain. How could he trust someone he barely knew? Especially when what he did know was his criminal activities. Then he met Oswald’s clear eyes and felt a calm certainty settle over him.

“Yes.”

“Then trust me when I say I know how to navigate this world of prejudices. And my first priority is always to keep those I care about safe.”

Edward thought about all Oswald had so far done for his mother’s sake. Leaving his home country, travelling abroad, building up a network of crime to earn enough to buy them both a better life. Even spending the money to arrange safe transport for his aviary of birds. And now he was setting off to rebuild his whole life in a new country. Only this time with Edward at his side.

He relaxed again.

“Are you saying I’m someone you care about then?”

He’d spoken in a teasing manner, expecting an eye roll perhaps and a huffed affirmation. Instead Oswald turned thoughtful.

“My mother always told me, life only gives you one true love Oswald. When you find it, run to it.” He hesitated as he chose his next words. “And now I’m running. With you.”

The implication stunned Edward momentarily before he noticed Oswald had begun clenching and unclenching his hands upon the railing. He reached over and caught one in his own.

“Running away together,” he spoke as lightly as his trembling voice would allow. “How poetic.”

He leant his head closer, with a thought to whisper something perhaps, only to be interrupted by a squawk and a nip on his ear lobe. Oswald laughed.

“It seems Rozsika has something of a jealous streak. Perhaps we should return her indoors.”

To Edward’s disappointment Oswald didn’t wait but turned and set off for the cabins. Though reluctant to end their talk, he had no wish to stand outside alone and so followed instinctively. Oswald was chivalrously holding the deck door open but when Edward stepped into it he suddenly pressed in close, staring up intently.

“Then perhaps we can continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he purred.

Edward’s eyes widened in understanding and he couldn’t help his smile. As Oswald smiled back, and stepped away far enough to allow him to pass, he just knew they’d enjoy a very stimulating journey.

And after that? The world was their oyster.


End file.
